Strangeness & Charm
by modest.giant
Summary: Stein is not a man of romantic notions, whereas his roommate is full of them. It had never occurred to him before to explore the fundamentals of a romantic relationship, and least of all with his roommate. And yet, he can't help wondering. On hiatus until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Soul Eater, this is just a story I had on my mind and wanted to write for fun. Enjoy!**

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The pitter-patter of fingertips against keyboards keys came to a sudden halt, as Franken Stein demonstrated infrequency in his routine—checking the time on his computer screen. It was only then that he noticed his roommate's prolonged absence from the room. He could hear her humming a nervous tune and frantically fiddling with something. Curious, as always, he stood from the computer and slowly walked down the corridors of his home to her room—situated across the hall from his own.

The door was open and he could plainly see what was going on, although he did not altogether comprehend it. Six or seven, yes seven, dresses were strewn about the room—one hanging off the closet handle, one off the back of her desk chair, four across the bed, and one she was holding up to her body, as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. Her blonde locks had been pinned up in a bun, and her body wrapped up in a silk robe. He deduced she was getting ready for something, but that didn't quite make sense to him. They had only made plans to watch TV that evening.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watched as she grumbled and tossed the dress she'd been holding away—eliciting a slight, if amused, grin from him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the dress she had been holding, except that it might have accentuated her large bust too much. He gathered that she was trying to impress someone, but not so much so that her breasts were the only things they were staring at. This confirmed to him that she would not be spending the evening watching TV with him. He almost felt a lonesome, disheartened ache tighten in his chest—but as usual, his desire to know what her new plans for the evening were and why they were so important to her, trumped any glum feelings he may have felt.

His fingertips scratched gently at the stubble on his chin and neck as he tried to formulate a hypothesis before she noticed his presence—she so obviously was too wrapped up in her own dilemma to pay him any mind. Her hair had been washed with a fragrant shampoo, but she was wearing perfume as well—he could faintly detect the scent of passionfruit, violets and vanilla. Her make-up was done to absolute perfection, and as was her hairdo. She had also shaved her legs. All that was left was her outfit (which was evidently proving to be the most difficult task).

All things considered, Stein should have come to his conclusion much sooner. She was going on a date. Satisfied with his observation, he decided to make his presence known.

"Wear the purple dress."

"Franken!" Marie peeped, nearly tripping over her own two feet. "H-How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know you're not going to be watching the nature channel with me tonight." He replied calmly, indifferently. He could never be angry with her, because there was nothing to be angry about. She was his weapon, not his wife—she had no obligation to live with him, much less spend the night with him.

Marie's shoulders drooped and he sensed her soul deflating out of guilt, "Oh, that's right, they found a dead great white off the coast of South Africa, they were going to record the dissection for science and discuss all of its killer qualities." She practically recited the commercial word for word; he couldn't resist another lazy grin.

"It's alright." He responded with a shrug, knowing that her normally positive soul would rebound quickly. "I'll tape it, we can watch it later. You have an important date, I take it?"

Marie blushed and instinctively tugged her robe up to cover her exposed collarbone. Stein pretended he didn't notice the way it caused the bottom hem to inch upwards and expose more of her thighs. "I was trying out this new dating site, and it paired me up with this guy pretty quickly! So we set up a date right away! He could be my future husband, Franken!" Doubtful, but Stein kept his opinions to himself on this matter, "So you think I should wear the purple one?"

"Yes." He thought that would be a sufficient answer, but it appeared that she needed confirmation as to why the purple dress would suit her better. Taking a hint, he plucked the dress from the bed and held it up to her, "The neckline suits your hair styled that way, and the plum violet color goes well with your make-up and complexion. It's not too revealing, while still being aesthetically pleasing."

She stared at him for a few seconds, her brow furrowing out of suspicion—she must have thought he might be lying or something. His expression remained passive, giving away nothing. Finally she responded, "Do you think I'm aesthetically pleasing, or just me in the dress?"

He refrained from asking the obvious questions on his mind: What sort of a question was that and why did she care what he thought?

But as he looked as he looked at her now, he realized she needed this in order to go on her date with confidence. Due to their closer proximity, his sense of smell was overwhelmed with her perfume, rather than his cigarette smoke and he found himself curious about what she was covering up with that robe. A thought that had never quite occurred to him in the way it was now.

Stein's eyes did not shift away from her own, singular eye, but instead bore into it with uncomfortable sincerity, "Marie, you are without a doubt, one of the most aesthetically pleasing people I've ever met."

"Oh um, thank you." She smiled awkwardly, "I think you're right, I'll wear the purple one."

"Fine choice." He smiled, although it was not wholeheartedly genuine, as he handed her the dress and stalked out of the room—back to his island known as the computer desk.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! I just wanted to kind of explain the direction I'm going in with Stein. I'm basing this stuff over his temporary insanity when he succumbed to Medusa's poison and am basically thinking that his opinion of thinking emotionally = bad things happening, hence his apparent indifference. Anyways, that's my own impression/opinion of the character! I do not own Soul Eater, etc etc. Hope you enjoy!**

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Stein leaned away from his computer screen and began to twist the screw in his head out of habit. For whatever reason, his task on the computer was only serving to bore him. He exhaled smoke, before glancing around the living room—making a point to not look at the TV, where the shark dissection was currently being recorded. He had turned the volume down so as not to spoil it for himself—in spite of the fact that he had already learned everything there was to know about sharks. Magnificent creatures, sharks, they had evolved into the ultimate predator.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and found himself hoping Marie's date was going poorly; perhaps then they would have enough time to watch it before she succumbed to her need for 'beauty sleep'. Stein felt an ounce of remorse for such a self-centered thought, but he couldn't deny the fact that it was what he wanted.

He pushed away from the computer desk, rolling on his chair down the hall towards the bedrooms. He came to a sudden halt, barely able to catch himself from falling off his chair, before peering inside Marie's room.

In all their months of living together, not once had he violated her privacy. A man such as him usually found it nearly unbearable to refrain from invading a roommate's room and exploring every inch of it. But with Marie, he quite honestly respected her far too much to do such a thing.

However, rules _were_ made to be broken, and Stein wanted to investigate this dating service she was using through the internet. After swiping her laptop, he rolled back to his desk in the living room and manually connected the computers together. Within thirty-seconds, Stein had hacked into her computer. A minute later, he was on her dating profile.

He found it to be a peculiar site, every member talking him or herself up in hopes of impressing someone enough to consider dating them. He wondered how much of the information shared between potential couples was true. If he had to estimate a solid number, he would guess less than fifty percent.

Following the breadcrumbs through her browser history, Stein found the man she was currently on a date with. He hummed thoughtfully, easily seeing what attributes she liked about this man. He was tall, dark and handsome—something women seemed to hold in high esteem—and he had an impressive businessman background. But there was something off about this man that made Stein turn the screw in his head, and that something was on the tip of his tongue when a knock on his front door interrupted his train of thought.

Without bothering to check the peephole, Stein opened the door to reveal one of his favorite experiments, Spirit.

"Hello Spirit, what brings you all the way out here?" He spoke unsmiling and without warmth, but he had always assumed Spirit preferred it that way.

"Evening Stein, I'm only here to return this." Spirit presented him with a cookbook titled 'Worldwide Recipes for the Tastiest Aphrodisiacs'. Stein did not take the book from him, but instead stared down at the other man in a quizzical manner.

"I don't believe I've ever owned a copy of that particular book," Stein was never one to turn down the opportunity to broaden his knowledge on, well, anything, but he had never been skilled in the art of cooking. "It must be Marie's."

"Of course it's hers. Do you even know what an aphrodisiac is?"

"Something that arouses sexual desire. In this book's case, it's food." Stein replied simply, half-smiling at Spirit's ridiculous expression.

"Walked right into that one." Spirit admitted, tossing the book to Stein and entering the house without permission—they were both familiar enough that Stein did not mind Spirit's forward behavior. "Where is Marie anyways? I wanted to tell her the book didn't work very well, if anything the food was a complete turn-off for my date." Spirit went on to say, flopping down onto Stein's patchwork sofa.

"Perhaps the food wasn't the problem, maybe there was something else that repulsed her." Stein said matter-of-factly, though they both knew he was openly mocking Spirit's alleged 'ladykiller charms'.

"Why you—hey, what the hell are you watching?" Spirit suddenly asked, pointing at the TV.

"It's the dissection of a great white shark, the greatest predator that currently swims in our oceans." Spirit would never understand his appreciation for such things; Stein was lucky that Marie humored him as much as she did. With the recording having just ended, Stein shut the TV off, "I was supposed to watch it with Marie, but she went on a date instead."

"Well no wonder you got ditched, shark dissections aren't exactly romantic."

Stein merely scoffed in response. Stein was a man of science, of facts and proof. There was not a romantic bone or organ in his body, not for Marie Mjolnir, not for anyone.

And yet...his eye had been drawn to the raised hem of her robe, he had been curious about what was underneath her robe. These facts were both as clear and concise as the list of chemical ingredients in his cigarettes were.

As a teenager, he had often wondered what it would be like to want someone and be wanted by someone in return. He had often observed Kami and Spirit in their youthful love, in order to form a better understanding, but in the end he was still puzzled over the mechanics of a purely emotional relationship.

More recently and more often, however, he found himself wondering what it was like to date Marie Mjolnir, why she had such poor luck in her love life and perhaps even what it would be like if she wanted him as more than a platonic friend. These were all just thoughts born of curiosity, he told himself, nothing more, nothing less.

"Hey Stein! I asked you a question." Spirit waved a hand in front of his face, although the taller man remained unphased.

"Marie and I are getting along just fine." Stein replied with a shrug, "She's a far superior roommate compared to you."

Spirit rolled his eyes, and looked past the tall figure of the meister—his eyes having caught something of interest, "Looks like you're not such a great roommate to her, though." Stein followed his gaze to Marie's laptop—still hooked up to his own computer, her dating profile all over the screen, "Why are you looking at her profile anyways? Jealous~?"

"Don't be absurd." Stein shoved his hands into his pockets, and took a seat next to Spirit, "I was curious about her date, is all."

"Yeah, and what's your _scientific_ opinion of him?" Spirit coaxed with a smug expression on his face.

"He's inferior to Marie, of course, and there's something about his face that doesn't seem right, like he's hiding something." Stein reiterated his former thoughts to his friend, thinking it a fair summary.

"Oh you _are_ jealous, Stein, I didn't know that was your style~." Spirit spoke in a teasing tone, causing Stein look away from his former partner in a dismissive manner. "Come on Stein, we're both men, you can tell me! Haven't you ever wanted a woman before?"

Stein turned the screw in his head three times to collect his thoughts. He had to really think about his answer to this question, if only because even at his age he didn't fully understand matters of the heart, or even something a little south of that. It was perhaps the _only thing_ Spirit had more experience in than he. Finally he nodded, "Medusa."

Spirit's formerly light-hearted jest burst in the awkward silence that followed after Stein so bluntly stated that name. "Uh…that wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Stein did not remember Medusa fondly, but he did remember being mad over her. He had wanted her desperately, he had wanted the exhilarating freedom she had offered him, and even now it surprised him just how intense his emotions had become when she had bewitched him. In the end, it had left him devastated.

Marie had saved him, though, like an angel rescuing a damned soul from hell. He had been unworthy of forgiveness, yet Marie had forgiven him. He had been unworthy of redemption, yet Marie had redeemed him. And when her wavelength had touched him, it was like bandage to cover the gaping wounds his madness had caused.

But even so, Stein could not allow himself to explore the potential for that kind of emotion, not with her. It would ruin Marie, for her to be the reason he succumbed into madness. For Franken Stein, the instability that those emotions caused in him posed a terrible risk to everyone around him. No, instead he would settle for a lukewarm friendship with Marie Mjolnir, rather than what he could only imagine being a calamitous affair that would destroy the both of them. There was no room in Franken Stein's heart to love another human being; his heart would simply burst from the effort. Medusa had taught that much, at least.

"Well, you asked." Stein replied after a few moments of silence, removing his hands from his pockets only to light a fresh cigarette.

"Yeah but, Marie and Medusa have absolutely nothing in common." Spirit persisted, running a hand through his red hair—Stein spied a few greys coming in, but said nothing.

"That's not true." Stein countered in a factual tone, "They're both blonde, intelligent women whose names begin with the letter m." The similarities did end there, though. Marie was warm, kind, and soft. Medusa was seductive, cruel and coarse.

"Okay, so you have a thing for blondes," Spirit retorted with an exaggerated sigh. But Spirit pressed the matter further, and he grinned arrogantly as though he had come up with the ultimate solution. Stein prepared himself to be blessed with Spirit's 'genius' in whatever ridiculous manner the weapon had thought of. "But love and lust are two completely different things."

Spirit thought himself deep and profound for coming up with that, but Stein was unimpressed. The statement did make Doctor Stein ponder, but he couldn't resist the urge to tease his former weapon.

"I hope that wasn't the argument you used when your wife asked for a divorce."

"_What_?! Oh, that was a low blow!" It would appear Stein hit the nail on the head (pun intended). Spirit folded his arms across his chest and pouted in a petulant manner, "I was _going_ to help you, but you can kiss that goodbye."

"You, help me?" He chuckled sardonically, tickled by the idea, "How so?"

"Help you to realize your full potential, of course." Spirit shot back, still pouting.

Stein stared at him for a long time, his deadpan expression giving away not a single thing. Until the scarred man burst into cynical laughter, "I'm sorry Spirit, I don't follow."

"You think you're so smart," Spirit grumbled, and his pout got more defined with every word, "You may know all about anatomy, but when it comes to this stuff—" Spirit tapped his chest, right over the spot where his heart was, "I know best."

Stein remained silent for a moment, before pointing at Spirit's crotch, "I may not know much, but I'm certain that thinking with that particular body part isn't as effective as you think it is. Your divorce is proof enough of that."

"Hey!" Spirit clenched a fist and Stein could see that his soul was becoming very upset at his words. It would appear that after all this time of the divorce being finalized Spirit was still sore from the whole ordeal. Stein might have been inclined to sympathize, but Spirit had made the decision to cheat on Kami—who, if Stein remembered correctly, was not a woman to be trifled with.

Stein turned the screw in his head thrice before it clicked, and he stubbed out his finished cigarette. "I'm very tired Spirit. I will let Marie know you returned her book, see yourself out and have a good evening." He rose from the sofa and unhooked Marie's laptop from his computer, securely placing it underneath his arm—as his hands found their way back into his lab coat pockets.

As Stein skulked down the hall towards the bedrooms, he heard Spirit gather his shoes and coat, the door click open—but was not followed by closing. He stopped and patiently waited for Spirit to say whatever it was that he had to say, without glancing back at him.

"You may not know this, but Marie loved you once." Spirit paused, as though he felt uncomfortable revealing such a thing without Marie's knowledge. "I just worry that with her living with you, she might fall in love with you again. And I just...I don't want to see her disappointed." With that, the door shut with a decisive click.

Stein stood perfectly still in the din of his house, absorbing the information he had just been given. After a few minutes of consideration, he began to compulsively turn the screw in his head, but it didn't seem to aid him with his current thoughts. Moving in an almost robotic manner, he entered Marie's room, set the laptop down on her desk, and exited.

Once within the four walls of his bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed, consistently turning the screw in his head. Stein tried to picture Marie's face, recall every conversation they had ever had, simply seeking some indication that Spirit's words were true. But how could the Doctor Stein have missed that sort of evidence? Marie Mjolnir was the complete opposite of subtle, there was no way he could have overlooked such data. The expressions in her face, the tremors in her voice, the way she looked at him—he should have noticed all of these things. Yet Marie had always had affection etched in all of her expressions, how was he supposed to differentiate between what was friendly and romantic?

The idea that Marie may have had, and might be redeveloping, feelings for him was simply inconceivable. Marie was not the sort of woman who could love a monster, she deserved better than that and he knew it. Stein was disappointed that, even after this revelation that had likely shaken the core of his formerly banal relationship with Marie, he did not have a more emotional response. He tried to pinpoint his thoughts and feel something, anything, but his head was pounding, he was so very weary and unable to focus.

The click of his screw echoed through the house, and Stein felt…nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter will be from Marie's POV! Don't worry, Stein will be back in the following chapter, I promise. Hope this gives you a little insight to Marie's manhunt. I do not Soul Eater, nor do I profit from this. It's simply for creative fun.**

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Marie smiled sweetly at her date, in spite of the fact that she was not enjoying herself in the slightest. He wasn't as handsome as he had been in his picture, and the receding hairline he was currently sporting had suspiciously been absent. She wondered if this man with all these supposed 'honest' and 'caring' qualities had in fact lied to her about a lot more than just his appearance. She couldn't help but think of how much better her night would have been had she chosen to laze on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, a show about sharks and her roommate, Franken Stein.

Even now, as Mr. Steve Connors blathered on about some project in his business firm, Marie was transporting herself elsewhere in her mind.

She couldn't stop thinking about that look in Stein's eye. To anyone who didn't understand him the way she did he would have seemed polite and platonic, and yet there had been something in his eyes that had made her feel like a bashful teenager again.

His eyes were a dead give-away to her, even if Stein would exhaustively deny it. Behind the round glasses and the heavy-eyelids, his eyes were calculative and intelligent (which was to be expected), but they were also very intense. That was the problem with Stein, you either got little to no emotion from him, or far too much. There was no in between, no moderation. When he felt, he felt with such a force that it nearly suffocated her soul.

She should understand, then, why he felt the need to maintain a comfortable distance from anyone and everyone, even his own roommate and trusted weapon. But, alas, Marie wasn't altogether practical on these sorts of matters. Her hopeless romantic nature would not allow her to be. She often wondered if Stein could get it just right, could just understand that with a little bit of effort his feelings wouldn't be so frightening, that he could perhaps find love.

But whom would Stein love, then?

"Marie, darling? I've been boring you haven't I?"

_Yes._ "No, no of course not. I just have a lot on my mind."

"I've been being selfish, talking all about myself. Please tell me more about your hobbies, Marie." Mr. Connors reached across the table to stroke her knuckles—Marie wasn't feeling it. "And I must repeat myself, you look positively ravishing."

"Oh, thank-you. Again." She laughed awkwardly.

She couldn't help but wish for Stein to share that exact opinion. It still surprised her, the effect that this mind-numbingly unromantic man of logic and analysis still had over her. As a child, she had always imagined a prince on a white horse that would treat her with tenderness. Stein had never so much as looked at her with blatant lust or romantic affection—at least not in a way that she had ever noticed. Yet she had once found herself attracted to the lanky, awkward teenager with the social skills of an agoraphobic hermit, even to the point where she considered him her first love.

He had grown up into a handsome man, unconventional for certain, but still handsome. Stein was simply magnetic to her. His genius alone was enough to make him attractive; after all, half the men she had dated in her life were dumber than a bag of rocks. His body was littered with scars and stitches, some of them from battles and some self-inflicted, but even that seemed to enhance the appeal of his athletic figure—not that she ever got to see even the tiniest bit of it, as he was always wearing that confounded lab coat. Marie wondered what he'd think or say if she ripped that poorly sewn turtleneck of his off, and she found herself blushing, embarrassed by the lurid thoughts that crossed her mind.

"Marie?" Steve Connors, world's most boring date of the night, asked her again.

"Yes, well. I enjoy teaching, and I enjoy spending time with my students." She spoke pleasantly so as to not reveal her underlying indifference. He was paying for the meal and he didn't seem all that bad, so she might as well be polite and kind towards him. She glanced away from Steve, before adding an unintentional afterthought, "My roommate and I watch the nature channel often."

"Oh, your roommate, eh? She a bookish sort?"

"He." She corrected with a slight smile, "And yes, he's very bookish."

"Oh, you live with another man."

"Yes." Marie shrugged her shoulders, it had never been a big deal—but she was surprised to see relief in Steve's expression.

"Well, that makes me feel so much better that you have a live-in boyfriend."

"Live-in boyfriend, what are you talking about?" Marie's whispered in a baffled tone, her brow furrowed. She was absolutely confused as to how a live-in boyfriend was a positive thing in this situation.

"Well, I have something to confess—" And that was about the time when Marie's confidence in dating sites was completely obliterated.

"Jerry! Jerry Connors I see you over there, with that woman!" Marie turned to see some middle-aged woman shouting from across the room, shoving past all the tables towards theirs. "You sorry sack of, good for nothing—"

"Jerry? I'm sorry what is this all about?" Marie asked, holding her hands up defensively.

"This is all about you being on a date with my husband." The woman snarled at her, shortly before she smacked 'Steve' across the back of his head.

"Ok. Let me get this straight." Marie's voice was dead calm, but her hands had balled into fists, "Your name isn't Steve. You're married. And the picture on your profile is outdated. Was it all fabricated?"

"Well, yes." He spoke in a small, pitiful voice, "But I do think you're very beautiful and I thought since you were cheating on your boyfriend, then maybe—"

"You. Are. A. Pig!" Before Marie knew it, she had lost her temper. Her fist had become a hammer and she had smashed it into 'Steve's' face—sending him clean across the dining room. It took her few moments to compose herself, before she could face his perturbed wife. "I'm very sorry for the confusion, I would have never dated him had I known."

The wife still looked suspicious of her, but nodded in acknowledgement nonetheless. That gesture had at least made Marie feel a little bit better about the situation, even though she was feeling pretty horrible. Gathering up her broken pride, she left the dining hall with her head held high, even though she was embarrassed beyond belief.

Once alone in the cab, Marie told the driver Stein's address and hesitated a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Eventually she muttered in a watery tone, "And p-please…don't ask."

With that Marie dissolved into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Soo when I started this I had a ton of ideas, but no decision on what direction I was going to take this story. I've since decided, and I'm pretty happy with it. It is a bit angsty for a bit, but as Harvey Dent said in TDK "The night is always darkest before the dawn." In this story's case, its the angst is always darkest before the fluff. I prefer complex stories that have a little bit of everything, maybe even some humor sprinkled in. I hope that it is still enjoyed, and I really appreciate all the kind words from the reviewers! So without further adieu, chapter four! I do not own Soul Eater, blah blah, this is all for fun/pleasure.**

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He dreamt he had slept through the apocalypse.

Death City was a ruin and the DWMA was a pile of rubble. The orange glow of the sunset almost made the remains of Death City appear to be on fire. Time had ceased to exist, the world was so still and quiet, not even the wind blew. He began to search through the wreckage of a city that had become home to him so many years ago, but deep down he knew he was alone. He could not feel a single soul, not even his Marie. He wondered if this complex feeling in his stomach, this clawing, aching desperation combined with a hollow emptiness, was what one might describe as grief.

"Marie." He whispered her name to anyone and no one.

Without her he would go mad once more. But the world had already ended, what point was there in worrying about it? And yet, he did not wish to fall into madness, even faced with the end of the world. Succumbing to madness would mean he was truly alone, truly hopeless. The thought left him with a very sudden, monstrous surge of emotion.

He made an almost inhuman noise and began to claw at his skin, tearing and ripping until blood had pooled in the cobbled stone of the broken street beneath his feet. His own screams echoed in his ears.

Then the scenery changed abruptly, and it felt like an unexpected kick to the stomach. He was back in his room, in his bed, and the clock was tick tick ticking in the background. He rubbed the ache from his eyes, and when he opened them again Marie was standing at the foot of his bed, wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown. Slowly, his eyes inched upwards and though his face remained impassive, he felt what he could only assume was desire in its most basic form.

"I'm still dreaming." He said, rather than asked.

"Are you?" She asked softly.

So this is what his mind had conceived as his interpretation of what she may look like naked. With porcelain skin, full breasts, slender waist and shapely hips, she was indeed the definition of womanly in spite of her petite stature. However, he wasn't surprised at how easy it had been for him to theorize her naked body, she possessed a figure that left little to the imagination.

Regardless, color him…fascinated.

"Marie…" He murmured, so quiet that it was barely audible.

"Franken." She responded, too easily, too willingly, he _must_ have been dreaming. She crawled onto the edge of his bed, invaded the space between them and situated herself between his legs, leaning against his chest with her head fitting perfectly beneath his chin. He didn't attempt to stop her or push her away, but his arms remained motionless at his side.

"I had a dream that you died." He admitted monotonously, speaking openly with dream Marie was a luxury he would never have in the waking world. And as much as he might have tried to ignore it, he wanted to feel comfort after that nightmare.

"But I'm right here." She spoke soothingly. The skin on skin sensation ebbed away the tension from his nerves, her skin was silk against his scarred tissue. His fingers twitched from the struggle not to touch her, hold her, draw her closer, but still he held back.

"What if I wake up one day, and it's true?" He asked, his tone still without emotion. "What if you leave me?"

Suddenly every nerve in his body was alert and his chest felt heavy from the effort to breathe.

"You know what will happen then." That voice did not belong to Marie, but to a ghost. The voice creeped into his ear and sent his body into a panic. Marie's face dissolved before his eyes, and suddenly Medusa was the woman in his arms—grinning wretchedly at his despair. She moved fluidly over him, placing a hand on either shoulder and straddling his waist, before she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You know why you have those dreams so often. That's your future, that's all your future will ever be."

His hands found their way to her neck and clamped down with such a force it even scared him. Medusa just laughed, and laughed and laughed, her own slender fingers curling around his neck. The louder her laughter got, the tighter her grip became, and the weaker his own hands felt.

Medusa's voice hissed in his head, "_Do you want to see what happens next?_"

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Marie had lingered on the front porch for a few minutes, wondering how many questions of Stein's she would have to answer upon opening that door. But once she did, she was surprised to find that Stein had retired to bed early. She supposed her ditching on their shark dissection date must have left him disappointed, or perhaps he was simply overtired from all his other sleepless nights. _Good for me_, she thought as she yawned, _I need to get to bed_.

She walked down the hallway, fully intending to collapse on her bed—make-up and evening gown and all—and simply slip into a tear-induced coma. But as she reached for the door handle to her bedroom, a gut feeling made her hesitate. Slowly, she turned to face Stein's bedroom door, and she just knew she had to check on him.

Tiptoeing up to the door, she turned the handle as quietly as she could manage and opened it just a sliver to peek inside. It was easy to tell that he was in a nightmare, given the fact that he was tossing and turning, and his breathing was ragged. Marie flung the door open impulsively and rushed over to the bedside, not caring whether or not she woke him. "Stein." She muttered his name over and over, but it didn't seem to help him.

Marie placed her hand against his forehead, but she still felt helpless to him. Place a physical problem in front of her, and she would gladly smash it with all her might if it would serve to help him—but she could not see what demons he was battling in the depths of his own mind. Mercifully, her wavelength was enough to pacify him for the time being.

He stilled almost instantly and his breathing calmed down. After a few moments he exhaled a deep breath and the tension seemed to deplete from his body. He had broken out in a cold sweat, but Marie set to work on combing the hair from his forehead with her fingers—something that seemed to soothe him a great deal.

"Oh, Franken." She whimpered, trying very hard not to start crying again. When she was sure she wouldn't burst into tears, and thinking her work was done, she moved to stand from the bed—but his hand shot up to grip her wrist. It was a weak grab, something she could have easily slipped out of, and she could see that he was still fast asleep. But instead of slipping away, Marie sat back down beside him and allowed him to hold her hand for a time.

She thought him rather child-like as he slept, the way his lips were parted ever so slightly and his possessive hold on her hand. He was such an intelligent, mature and composed man, but he was not invulnerable. Only she was able to see this side of him, to the rest of the world he was the great and terrible Dr. Franken Stein.

It was another hour before it appeared that he had slipped back into a comfortable, dreamless sleep and only then did his grip on her hand relax. The entire time she had been sitting next to him, watching his slumber, she had thought about how easy it would have been to slip into the spot next to him and spend the night in his bed. But it wouldn't have been right, for her to take advantage of his vulnerability. No, she would only spend the night sleeping next to him if he voluntarily asked her to do so.

No matter how much she wanted to stay and be near to him, she left his side and settled for the cold comfort of her own bed.

* * *

**A/N: So this is what I suppose you can call my homage to Inception (ie. dream within a dream). Hope you didn't mind the little aspect of the dreams, they're going to be pretty relevant for the next few chapters.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I do not own Soul Eater, this is merely for fun!**

* * *

Marie buried her face into her pillows, attempting to ignore the rays of sunlight peeking through her drapes. She would have to get out of bed soon otherwise she might be late for class, and that wouldn't set a very good example for her darling students. Reluctantly, she slid off of her bed and threw on a baggy hoodie before making her way into the kitchen—Stein was already up and drinking a fresh cup of coffee. She slumped down into the chair across from him and rested her forehead on the heel of her palm.

"You didn't sleep well, I take it?" He inquired nonchalantly, clearly unaware of their intimate bonding experience from the previous evening—it would just have to be one-sided then, like all the rest of their 'bonding experiences'. For a man who prided himself on his observational skills, he sure was oblivious of her feelings for him. Well, he was either oblivious or in denial, she couldn't quite tell yet.

"Yes." She croaked in response to his question. She hadn't noticed him rise from his seat, but he must have because a cup of coffee was placed in front of her.

"Two lumps of sugar and a splash of cream, right?" His assessment was confirmed by her slight nod; she was surprised that he had remembered such an insignificant detail of her life. "Was your date fun, at least?"

"No." She scowled, but sipped her coffee and didn't elaborate.

"You're still upset about it." He deduced, without even looking up from the paper he was reading. Sometimes his ability to read wavelengths made her uncomfortable. However, Marie had thus far been able to mask her more private thoughts concerning Stein in particular. Although, it certainly helped that he had never been seeking to validate her potential romantic feelings for him. "What happened?"

Marie opened her eye and stared at him, Stein was never one for idle chitchat or small talk, never without an ulterior motive. She frowned slight and replied in a very firm tone, "I don't want to talk about it."

This seemed to grab his attention, as he glanced up from the paper he was reading and met her gaze. They sat there for a few moments, staring, until Stein finally cracked a smile—and a genuine one at that. He did not have a kind or pleasant smile, but it suited his haphazard face so well that she felt comforted by it nonetheless, "Well that's unfortunate, because now I'm even more curious."

"Stein, he was a jerk, that's it." Marie waved a hand dismissively at the subject. Honestly, she wasn't all bent out of shape over that guy anymore, it was more so her pride that was still sore. No one liked to look like a fool, and certainly not in a room full of fancy people.

"You and I both know that's not a sufficient answer." He pressed further, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer to her. Those pale green eyes of his seemed to will her to speak. She was like putty in his hands when he stared at her that way, and he knew it too.

Her resolve crumbled and she made an exasperated sound, "He was married, okay? And then his wife showed up and screamed at me. Ugh, I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

Stein was quiet for a few seconds before he simply said, "Huh," and went back to reading his paper. It was not a surprised '_huh_' or a comforting '_huh'_. It was a knowing '_huh_', or what she perceived to be a condescending '_huh_'; as though Stein had theorized it the entire time and she had only now confirmed his hypothesis. She had been wrong before. She was even more embarrassed at that moment, because she actually cared about Stein's opinion of her. She was about to ask him what that '_huh_' was all about when he spoke up again, "I wonder what sort of man thinks he can cheat on his wife with Marie the Pulverizer."

"What…what do you mean?" She muttered, confused. There was something of violence in his tone, but it was a subtle violence. He put his papers down once more, seeming more than interested on elaborating on his statement. The look in his eye sent a shiver down her spine.

"He must have the same affliction that Spirit has, this thing in their brains that causes them to be promiscuous and deceitful." Stein decided, looking at her with a crooked grin, "Would you like me to dissect him for you? I can't very well study Spirit, after all. I could even remove his ability to cheat on his wife altogether."

"Oh, no Stein. That's very…um, _sweet_ of you, but I'm already over the whole thing." She waved her hands around again and laughed it off as though he was kidding, although she wasn't quite sure he was. But he seemed to relax back into his seat again, as he started to read his papers once more. She watched the ripples in her coffee cup as she pondered their situation. She was having more fun during her morning cup of coffee with Stein, than a whole dinner in a fancy restaurant with that other man. How was she supposed find a husband with Stein absorbing all her attention? The idea of moving out crossed her mind, but she quickly squashed it with her own desire to stay. She spoke up again, chatting in an almost absent-minded manner, "I thought it would have worked this time, why does husband hunting have to be so hard?"

She knew Stein couldn't very well answer that question for her, nor was it something that he particular cared about, but he at least tried to be a good friend to her. He responded in a matter-of-fact tone, "Marie, you're perfectly charming, I'm sure your luck will turn around."

_Stein doesn't believe in luck, but he'll pretend to for me,_ She thought with a shy smile. "I honestly don't know why my luck is so bad." She said thoughtfully, fully agreeing with his assessment of her—she _was_ charming. He glanced up from his paper again, only to briefly reach across the table to give her shoulder a brief, reassuring pat. She sighed, before impulsively blurting out something silly, something meaningless, "You know with my luck, I should just give up. Why don't we get married? All my things are here and I spend the most time with you anyways."

At the time it seemed like a harmless joke, especially since her date last night jumped to conclusion that Stein was her boyfriend, but it became very clear that Stein did not find it humorous. In fact, he took it a little too seriously. "That can never and will never be." He twisted the screw in his head and spoke in such a decisive tone that it kind of…hurt her feelings.

She thought it strange, how his light-hearted mood had changed so abruptly—she could feel the sudden tension in the room, like an electric shock. She didn't understand what it was that had perturbed him. Curious, she decided to test the waters a bit more, but she spoke in a relatively casual tone, "Well, what happened to me being so charming?"

"Why are you trying to goad a response from me Marie?" He asked pointedly, but without even bothering to look up from his work, "I can't fathom why my opinion on your marriage prospects should matter to you."

He avoided her stare, as she tried to look for a reason to his sudden change in behavior. But he had shut down the line of communication; he wouldn't be revealing any secrets this morning. She stood very suddenly and stammered out in a wavering voice, "I-I have to get ready for work."

With that, she fled the kitchen without looking back at him.

* * *

Classes were nearly done for the day, so it was about time he went to find Marie so that they could walk home together. Although, he wondered if she would even want to be near him after the incident this morning.

The walk to school had been frigid to say the least. Normally Marie would talk his ear off about anything she thought was interesting or important, but instead she had been mysteriously silent. Whenever he had attempted to generate a conversation she only offered him vague, one-word replies. He was beyond irritated by midday, after she refused to sit with him at lunch.

His nails bit into his palms from within his lab coat pockets, as he stood outside her door waiting for all the students to file out; the conversation he wanted to have with Marie required privacy and discretion. Black Star was the first child to exit the room, of course, and Tsubaki trailed after him begging for him to wait up. A few more kids exited the room, and then the scythe meister Maka and her weapon, Soul. Stein said some commonplace pleasantries and the pair went along their way, and only then was the room completely empty—aside from his weapon, whose arms were folded across her chest in a defensive manner. This was not going to be an easy conversation.

He approached her with a twisted grin plastered across his face. He knew it was inappropriate, but he could never understand what was socially acceptable in these types of situations. Furthermore, he had never been in a situation where he felt obligated to apologize for the things he had said. More importantly (_in his opinion at least_), she never should have said such things—jokingly or not—in the first place. He couldn't allow her to have those thoughts about him, nor should she put them in his own head. Still haunted by that dream he had the night before, he almost felt nauseous with worry for Marie. He had to make her understand that nothing could ever happen between them, and he needed to confirm that her romantic feelings for him were either fictional or at the very least, a thing of the past.

But what of his own feelings? A baser instinct, the same one that wanted to dissect everything, was curious about exploring the potential of their relationship. Even looking at her now, his fingertips itched with the desire to tear into her clothes and see how she would react to his touch. Skin on skin, he had dreamed about it before. Would she yield to him sweetly or would she reject him with disgust? These questions had repeated in his mind for the past twenty-four hours, ever since Spirit exposed her past feelings, and the curiosity was borderline excruciating. He cursed his ex-partner, the paranoia in him wondering if it had all been a ruse to cause a rift between Marie and him, revenge for past wrongs.

"Are you just going to stand there, or do you have something to say?" Reality came crashing down on his inner thoughts and logic took the wheel once more, his grin faded into a more composed expression. _It's just physical attraction. It will pass_, he told himself, in spite of the unease in the pit of his stomach.

"Marie, about this morning, if I said something to offend you—"

"Enough!" She interrupted him…she had never interrupted him before. He studied her very carefully now, noticing that something was off about her wavelength. He was the most skilled meister in the entire world, but he couldn't quite tell what she was covering up. The mask he wore in public remained placid, in spite of the way his curiosity raged inside his mind at his realization. He was so focused on piecing together whatever it was she was keeping from him, that he almost didn't hear what she was saying, "I was only joking, you didn't have to be so rude about it."

"Marie." His voice very grave now, "What are you hiding from me?"

"Are you even listening to me? I had a pretty horrible night and you were being so nice, and then you just changed into an asshole and—" She paused as he walked up to her, the erratic look in his eyes must have stunned her. Eventually she found her voice again and said very quietly, "I'm not hiding anything."

"You're lying." He loomed over her, their chests nearly touching, "You've been acting different since last night."

"No, you've been acting different!" She shot back angrily, jabbing a finger into his chest. Marie was always so emotional, he could never understand why, "This morning? That joke I made? Normally you would have just laughed it off, because you know I meant nothing by it."

"Do you actually, though? _Mean nothing_?" He asked, his expression inscrutable. "Spirit told me that you may have had feelings for me once, is it true?" The betrayal and embarrassment that enveloped her facial features was a good enough answer for him, however, she surprised him with how fast she rebounded.

"Is _that_ what this is all about?" He could feel the scorned fury simmering off her soul, "A little crush I had ages ago? So what if I did? What does it matter to the _great Doctor Stein_?"

There was that whisper in the back of his mind; _do you want to see what happens next?_

Marie unfolded her arms and shoved him back, also something he hadn't expected. He reacted by grabbing her forearm and yanking her against him. "It matters because we can't be partners if it happens again. I cannot trust you with those kinds of emotions." She looked as though he'd slapped her rather than spoken to her, but that didn't stop him, the words came tumbling out in a half-frenzied voice, "Even right now, you're masking your emotions from me. How can I trust you?" She clenched her teeth together and her trembling fist had turned into a hammer. "Oh, have I made you _angry_, Marie?" He grinned again, preparing for the blow to his face, wanting it even.

However, a curt knock on the door interrupted them. Stein relaxed his grip on Marie slightly, and her fist returned to normal. Marie faced away from the door, using his body to shield herself from the intruder's line of vision.

"What do you want, Spirit?" Stein asked, scowling.

"Lord Death has a mission for you two, you're to go to Berlin at once." Spirit hesitated, surveying the scene before his eyes, "Unless there's a reason you can't…"

"No, we'll be heading out within the hour." Marie said in a tone that did not leave room for argument. She wrenched her arm free of his grasp and moved past him. _This isn't over_, he thought to himself. They would have all the privacy in the world once they were away from Death City. Stein would get it out of her one way or another; otherwise their partnership might be effectively ruined.

* * *

**A/N: Uh, oh! Trouble in paradise~*~*~*~*~ **

**I'm back to college and such now, so I don't know how fast I'll be updating. But I've mostly got the skeletons of the next few chapters done anyways, so I will try to post new chapters in an orderly fashion! Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, following and favoriting!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I do not own Soul Eater, this is simply for fun!**

* * *

"We'll stay here for the night." Marie declared, pointing at what appeared to be the most expensive hotel in the entire city. It didn't matter to him where they stayed, just so long as she picked a place; it had been hours since they'd arrived and Marie had insisted on being the one to find the hotel. They had been traveling together for the past three days and she had gotten into the habit of bossing him around since they left Death City—which of course led to a few misadventures.

Nevertheless, they had made it to Berlin all in one piece, although things between them were no better than when they had left. He did feel remorse for some of the things he'd said. Stein did not want to push Marie away, nor did he want to cease their partnership, but these things would have to be sacrificed for her wellbeing should her feelings redevelop for him. He would rather fall into madness alone than drag her down with him. He felt justified in making this decision without Marie's emotional input—of course, he shouldn't have been so naïve as to assume she would allow him to do this.

"We have one room available for the evening, it has a king size bed and a full en suite. Should be perfect for a traveling couple." The hotel manager smiled at them, acting ignorant of the tension between the meister and the weapon, although he seemed uncomfortable looking Stein.

Marie went along with it regardless, forcefully pulling Stein's hand from his pocket and lacing her fingers with his own, "Oh that sounds perfectly lovely!" She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, "Doesn't it _honey_?" He grimaced at the use of the endearment, but did not stop her from booking the room. Cornered in a room with him would lend him the ideal opportunity to speak with her on the matter, however, he wouldn't be able to escape from her should she resist him. It was a risk he was willing to take, though.

It was just the two of them as the rode the elevator up, and her fingers quickly slipped from his hand. They did not look at each other during the ride up, and Stein took to turning the screw in his head. Curiously, it clicked in unison with the bell dinging, the doors opening to present them with their floor.

Once within the confines of the hotel room, Stein focused all of his attention on Marie's movements. She set her bags down, stretched her back and yawned—but she still avoided looking at him directly. And she was still hiding whatever was near and dear to her heart. He gritted his teeth and started to twist the screw once more. He wondered how long the silent treatment would work for her; Marie had a forgiving nature and was a chatty woman for the most part, this particular tactic of hers was in his favor. But winning the quiet game wasn't his ultimate goal, and so it was he who broke the silence first. "Marie."

"Stein." Her voice was cool, distant—not unlike his own, in fact.

"Marie, you don't understand." He said, trying to sound reasonable. Unfortunately for him, Marie didn't seem the least bit interested in what he had to say. She whirled around to face him, every bit of anger and hurt clear in her expression.

"No, you don't understand." She blurted out, her previously cool demeanor having all but vanished. His brow furrowed as he tried to translate whatever she was saying into something he could comprehend. He always found it difficult to understand her point when she was emotional like this. "D-Don't stand there and act like you get it, because you don't. But I _know_ you don't, and that's why I'm okay with it…with you and the way you are. You think it's so terrible for me to have had feelings for you? Why is that?"

She walked over to him, and he could see tears accumulating in the corner of her eye. His face remained unreadable and he shook his head, glancing away from her face, "Marie, please."

Unexpectedly, she grabbed the front of his lab coat and shook it slightly, "If it's because you don't find me attractive, that's fine! But don't say that you don't trust me. How could you say that to _me_, of all people? I can't believe you're going to allow one tiny, insignificant detail ruin our—"

Something in his mind broke, the mask he constructed to hide his unstable, eccentric emotions was crumbling into oblivion. Without a rational thought, he grabbed her in a bruising grip and slammed her against the wall. "I can't allow you to put yourself at risk, not for me."

"_At risk?_" She whispered, bewildered by his statement.

The corner of his eye twitched as he looked down at her. He tried to string his rampant thoughts together into a coherent explanation, but he was unable to control the disjointed clamor of words fighting to get out of his mouth, "I can't allow myself…those emotions and the madness…unbearable." His gaze dropped down to the floor, as he was no longer capable of looking her in the eye. Her hands released the fabric his coat and timidly rose to cup his face. He tensed and jerked his head away, as though he'd been burned, "What are you doing?"

"You're frightened." She murmured, knowing.

He was, wasn't he? His body was trembling and his forehead was slick with sweat. Why was he so frightened, though? _Do you want to see what happens next?_ He chuckled humorlessly, "You're the one who should be frightened, Marie. You think that if you remain calm in the face of my madness that the storm will pass? That's foolish, even for you." He felt her soul begin to boil with anger at his insult. This was what he wanted, except it subsided just as suddenly as it had been sparked…

"Stein, I'm not going to argue with you."

"Why not?" He couldn't comprehend how she was able to control her temper in this situation; normally she would have beaten him to a pulp. His own anger at her stubborn defiance made him react lightning-quick. He slammed a fist into the wall beside her ear, and the electric currents of his soul zapped around the air menacingly. Threatening Marie harm had never been his intention, but he was so _desperate_ to make her understand. "Fight back Marie."

"No." A silence followed after her refusal, it was a burdensome silence and it weighed on him.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" He asked then, the anguish in his voice shocked even him, but she remained calm and quiet. That's when he thought he could see it, the reason she wouldn't fight back. The reason she was always so kind to him in spite of the horrible things he had done. The reason she didn't listen to what everyone else said about him. His voice was cold and hard, "You pity me, don't you?"

"Franken, please…" She implored, reaching for his face again. Without thinking about it, he grabbed her wrists with one hand and pinned them down against her left hip. His other hand clutched her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

"You and I are treading on thin ice, Marie." He wanted to sound dead serious, but he could not suppress the maniacal humor that bubbled up from his chest in sporadic bursts. "I'm warning you, next time this conversation may not go so smoothly for you." And then it happened. Fear, it carved itself into her features as she was forced to stare at him. This was what he had needed from her, the bittersweet anxiety and dread from her soul imprinted on his own. It didn't alleviate his torment, though.

He released her brusquely, as though he was discarding a broken toy, and walked over to the small desk by the window. Marie slid down the wall into a sitting position, staring at him though he did not look back. After awhile, he wasn't sure if it had been a minute or an hour, she broke the silence, "I'm going to have a bath."

She locked herself in the bathroom for some time, and Stein pretended not to hear her as she wept. There was no joy in making her cry. At one point the sound of her sobs almost became too much for him to bear, and he stood with the intention of calling out to her, comforting her in whatever way he could manage. But the instant his palm touched the wood of the door, the words refused to pass his lips. His forehead briefly rested against the barrier between them and he couldn't help but realize his method of scaring her had been unpleasantly adequate. He parted from the door, and found himself back at the desk using research notes as a means of distraction.

Their eyes didn't meet when she came back into the room, she would look at him while he read, and he would glance up at her when she looked away. Stein was not even aware they were doing this until the third or fourth time it occurred.

"Are you going to sleep like that, at the desk?" She asked suddenly, and he finally met her gaze—noticing that all her fear for him had remarkably vanished. He had grabbed her and rattled her like a rag-doll, and yet she still worried for him. He felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt in that moment, but buried it quickly and placed a fake smile upon his lips.

"Well we can't very well share the bed." It was in poor taste for him to even say that, but it was the truth.

"Oh."

"I'm not very tired. I probably won't sleep at all, anyways." It was a lie, but he wanted to avoid sleep at all costs. _Do you want to see what happens next?_

"I see. Well, good night, then." She yawned, before turning over onto her side, facing away from him.

Once he was certain she was sound asleep, he cracked the window open and began to smoke a much-needed cigarette. He uttered a satisfied sigh, as the warmth of he nicotine in his lungs helped to ease the agitation in his nerves. Coincidentally, when he began to relax, his eyelids began to feel heavy as well. The documents on the table in front of him began to blur into each other and he wasn't retaining any of the information.

"_Stay awake_." He demanded in a furious whisper, but he became hypersensitive to the light of his lamp and the wire of his glasses felt too tight. He had to muffle a frustrated groan, so as to not wake Marie. Against his better judgment he removed his glasses and shut the lamp off. _Only for a minute_, he told himself, before he slowly slipped through the crevices of his subconscious.

* * *

**A/N: I would like to, ****_again_****, thank everyone that keeps following/favoriting and all the reviewers! I just appreciate it, seriously. Anyways, I hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations and I ****_hope_**** that I'll have the next chapter up by the end of the week. Stay tuned~!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, this is just for fun.**

* * *

_"Do you want to see what happens next?"_

It didn't matter if he answered that question or not, his dreams always ended the same.

They were always in an operating room, on a steel table, with an empty observation gallery above. The room was cold and dim, except for the surgical light that hung slightly off-kilter above him. Medusa was on top of him, her nails piercing the skin of his neck, as she convulsed with sick amusement. He felt a hopelessness. He felt defeated. But just as he began to lose consciousness, when he thought he that he might die, strength began to return to his body. It was pure self-preservation, the will to overcome her and live.

He flipped her over and slammed her into the hard surface of the operating table. He strangled her, though she still laughed at him. He decided in that instant that he was going to kill her. He was going to erase her from his memories. Choking the life from her wouldn't be sufficient enough, though. He wanted to feel her blood on his hands.

However, the intelligent, logical side of his soul commanded him to stop what he was doing, that it was inhumane and brutal. But the powerful, mad part of him reacted on instinct and emotion—it would not bow to reason. He began to beat Medusa with his bare hands.

He experienced it again, for the fifth night in a row, the out of body experience—the voice of reason inside of him was trapped in the gallery above, able to see and do nothing. The mad side of him was below, wild-eyed and laughing, as he laid waste to Medusa's body. There was no rhyme or reason to his violence. He wasn't carefully dissecting her, he was butchering her in a rage. The trapped portion of his soul was screaming now. He screamed from above until his throat had gone hoarse, but the mad part of him did not seem to hear him. He began to slam his fists down against the glass of the observation gallery; the barrier always cracked, but never broke. Every night he failed, every night the madness in him proved to be deaf to sanity.

When his physical form had been drained of energy, blood spattered across his face and clothes, he slipped off of the table and grinned down at his work. Medusa's body was a mangled wreck; she was unrecognizable aside from her witch's garb. Sanity slowly flowed back into his body and he became a whole soul again. But the more sanity he regained, the more the battered body on the table changed before his eyes. He realized what he had done again, for the fifth night in a row. The body was no longer dressed in Medusa's clothing, but instead an all too familiar black skirt with a yellow lightning bolt along the front of it. His eyes widened and he addressed the lifeless body, though he knew she had no lips left to answer, "Marie?"

He felt as though his head had split into a million pieces and _oh_, his heart ached. His body shook with the effort not to tear his own chest open and remove the sore organ. Removing it would not provide him with the relief of death, nor would that ache subside—he knew because he had unsuccessfully attempted that method two nights prior.

"Marie?" He pleaded again, his voice was devoid of emotion as he leaned over the table, examining the damage caused by his own two hands. He broke down slowly, cradling her in his arms and wailing in a low moan, for he did not possess real tears to weep. He knew it was a dream, but her lifeless body felt real, the warmth of her blood on his hands felt real, and his grief certainly felt real.

"Why, Franken?" He heard Marie's voice in his head, but her broken lips were unmoving.

"I'm sorry." He choked out.

"Why, Franken?" She repeated, and he opened his eyes. Her ghost stood across the room from him, in the shadows. She was pale and transparent, but eerily beautiful in a white dress. There was a terrible sadness in her eye, and he felt as though she was passing judgment on his soul. Reluctantly, he released her physical body and approached her ghost. Her lips never moved, but he could hear her voice in his head, "Why, Franken?"

"You always ask that." He said, before sinking to his knees in front of her, resting his face against her stomach—although she was a spectral phenomenon, in his dream he could always touch her. His arms, which had been so reluctant to hold her in the earlier portion of his dream, lifted easily and clutched at the silky fabric of her white dress. "I never have the right answer."

"Why did you let this happen to me, Franken?" She tried a more specific inquiry, but he didn't have a different answer.

"I'm sorry. Don't leave, Marie. Don't leave me." He wished he didn't sound so desperate. His response seemed to disappoint her, and she began to disappear in front of his eyes, becoming less tangible by the second.

"_Why, Franken?_" She whispered one last time, and then he was alone—and the madness began to cave in all around him. His name on her lips echoed through the recesses of his mind, until it suddenly became a blaringly loud, frenzied shout.

He woke with a start.

"Franken! Oh, thank death." Marie was clutching his shoulders and shaking them, he could clearly see that she was distraught. He frowned, staring up at her, and she seemed to relax slightly when their eyes connected.

When she had stopped shaking him, he slumped over the table and rested his face in his hand. He cleared his throat and grumbled in a sleep-heavy voice, "What's going on?"

Her voice cracked and he could tell that she was close to crying, "You were having a nightmare, I had to wake you because I thought you might hurt yourself, you were so upset. My wavelength didn't seem to calm you down at all." Her fingers gradually released his shoulders, as though she was the one who required physical support.

"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and placing his glasses back on. His recurring dreams were becoming more and more vivid, and he idly wondered if he would begin confuse that with reality soon.

"Five in the morning, why?" He heard Marie's delayed reply.

"I'm going for a walk." He announced plainly.

"What?!" She shouted, incredulous. As he walked past her, she grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. Her hold on him was half-hearted, and he knew she was still unsure of his state of mind, unsure of whether or not he would lash out. But, instead of reacting in the detestable manner he had the night prior he gently removed her fingers from his arm. His calm and collected behavior gave her reason to pause.

"I just need…to clear my head. I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

Stein sat on a bench in the center of a small, wooded park. It was still fairly early, the morning air was brisk against his lungs and the fog still hovered above ground. Outwardly he appeared peaceful, but inwardly his mind was racing. The more time he spent analyzing everything, the more illogical it seemed. He felt like she was crowding him, and yet he wanted her closer all the same. Stein didn't understand how he could want to be near to her and away from her simultaneously. He had tried to forget his conversation with Spirit, but that only seemed to make him think about it more. He told himself that Marie was a friend and nothing more, but it didn't stop him from imagining her writhing beneath him naked, wanting him.

For the first time in a long time, Professor Franken Stein was stumped. By all accounts he should have severed ties with Marie last night, but for some reason he hadn't been able to bring the words to his lips. The more he was entangled in this mess of an argument, and the more he was plagued by that relentless nightmare, the stronger his attachment to her grew. He imagined them as two magnets and with every passing day, the more intense their magnetic field felt.

He exhaled an irritated grunt as he popped yet another cigarette in his mouth, his brows furrowing as he desperately tried to remain calm. It maddened him in a different way than that of regular madness, it was in a way that his gut instinct seemed to reject any sound judgment his mind contrived. It was infuriating, to be at war with oneself. He had originally thought his violent actions towards her were brought about from his underlying madness. In truth, he had thought it better to frighten her away, than condemn her to a life with him. But even then, he hadn't been able to convincingly scare her away from him.

He looked down at his hands and felt shame for desiring Marie. Both his hands and soul were tainted, and if he would allow himself to do so, his body would be more than willing to blemish her with his affection—if one could even call it that. He would leave her with such a stain on her soul that she may never recover, that she would be ruined for anyone else. His hands curled into fists when he took pleasure in the thought, the idea that Marie would be his and his only.

"I could treat her right. I would never leave her." He suggested aloud, though no one was around to argue with him. Leaning back against the bench to look up at the sky, he sighed, and knew it wouldn't be fair of him. How could it be fair? It would force her to live with his occasional insanity, to put up with his cold exterior, and to sacrifice the potential for a union happier than he could ever maintain. Even though he agreed fully with these reasonable arguments, he still wanted to surrender to his own selfish wants and desires. He was so dreadfully tired of repressing himself, even in spite of the fear the nightmare instilled in him.

He would try to convince her once more, but he didn't feel confident as he stood from the bench—he could already feel his resolve falter as he imagined how she looked at him in that way that no one else ever had. In that way that implied he was worth more than just the knowledge and wisdom he had to offer. The warmth and tightness in his chest made him wonder if these supposed 'romantic notions' were in fact the leading cause of heart palpitations. Or perhaps he was simply nervous.

Although, he couldn't decide which provoked more anxiety: acceptance or rejection?

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**A/N: Okay so the big reveal is up, and I know it's probably pretty predictable for SteinxMarie. But, I tried my own spin and I'm happy with it! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I should have the next one up soon as well. I've been working on a new SteinxMarie fic lately as well, which is why I'm delaying so much! Stay tuned for more, though! Thanks~!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, nor do I profit from this. I am simply writing for fun.**

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"Are you sure you're understanding him correctly? You might be reading into his words too much, looking for something that isn't there." The suspicion in Azusa's voice was easy to read, even through the phone.

"You didn't see him, he's in such bad shape." Marie insisted, chewing on her bottom lip, "I know you, and everyone else, think he's incapable of love, but…there was just something in his voice last night. I can't explain it."

"Marie, it's very kind of you to look after him—_he so clearly needs it_—but he's not right for you. Why can't you understand?" Azusa sighed, and Marie knew her friend was getting tired of having this conversation. History seemed to be repeating itself, as in the past it had been Kami trying to convince her of Stein's heartless nature. Everyone seemed to think her daft or confused for her attraction to him. Marie did not feel the need to overanalyze such things, because if she felt it then it was right, simple as that.

"There! Right there!" Marie exclaimed, although it didn't make much sense to her friend.

"Right where? What?"

"He said almost the exact same thing. That I don't _understand_ why I can't have these feelings."

"He said that because it's true, see, even he knows you two aren't compatible."

"No, you're saying that because you care about me and don't want to see me get hurt, _right_?" Marie felt as though she had almost connected all the dots.

"Yes, that is true but—"

"Stein cares for me Azusa, you cannot deny that." The lack of response from her friend encouraged her to go on, "He thinks he'll hurt me, but I don't know why…"

Marie became very quiet then, looking out the window of her hotel room, waiting to catch a glimpse of her partner returning. The way she felt about Stein...it made all those other dates seem pointless, all those men she had considered serious boyfriends seemed insignificant. There was a different energy between them now, something both powerful and volatile. She had no doubt that Spirit's good intentions and meddling had been the unfortunate catalyst, but maybe it was meant to happen this way. Maybe Franken Stein was her soul mate after all, and this was just the nudge they needed.

She spoke up again, the determination clear in her voice, "But I intend to find out, and I haven't felt this way about anyone…ever. There's nothing quite like your first love, Azusa."

"Marie, please be sensible…" Azusa's response was disappointing. Even after all these years, her closest friends couldn't be supportive in her romantic endeavors. Marie sighed and tried to keep her temper in check before replying.

"If being sensible means I have to lie about my feelings, then I'm glad I've never been known for my good sense." The irritation in Marie's voice signaled the end of the conversation, and Azusa knew it.

After a prolonged pause, her friend gave up and said with great concern, "Just be careful."

"I will...he's coming back now," Marie spied the silver-haired man slowly walking towards the hotel, his shoulders were hunched over and his hands were in his pockets—it was undoubtedly Stein. About time, it was almost eleven o'clock. He had been gone for nearly six hours. "I will talk to you later Azusa, bye."

She hung up the phone and turned in her seat to face the door. She would remain in that spot until he returned. She hadn't gone back to sleep after he had left, instead she had showered and gotten dressed. She had been ready for their mission hours ago, leaving her with little else to occupy herself—she had even ordered a quaint breakfast from room service. There were a few pieces of toast and apple slices left for Stein, but she knew he probably wouldn't eat them. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs as she nervously shifted in her seat, awaiting his arrival. She thought about how she was going to convince him or what she would even say to him, and felt insecure in the plan she scraped together. As the knob on the door turned, she bristled with anxious anticipation and her hands clutched at the fabric of her skirt.

"Marie? I'm back." His voice seemed much less grouchy and tense, that was a good sign.

"H-Hi Franken." She blurted out with lame awkwardness. It was a less dramatic greeting than she had intended, but everything she had thought of to say seemed to escape her when she saw his tall figure in the doorway.

"I think we should discuss last night, actually, the past week to be precise." He was saying, while stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. His back was facing her, but she knew he was waiting for her to agree to having the discussion. Instead of obliging his invitation, Marie blurted out the exact words on her mind at that exact moment.

"Franken, I think I'm in love with you." It was the most indelicate way of handling things, but at least it was out there in the open. Oh god, it was out there in the open, awkward silence. She had to remind herself not to panic. Slowly, he turned to face her; his expression was quizzical—as if he was unsure whether or not he'd heard her correctly. She met his gaze, fearlessly, and waited patiently for him to react.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to prevent an oncoming headache, but her resolve stayed strong. His tone was much more reserved than it had been the night before, but she sensed the underlying unease in his voice, "_Marie you don't get it_…"

"You said your piece last night, now it's my turn." He looked away from her and glanced out the window, she thought he might refuse her or interrupt her. Stein remained quiet though, and she realized then that he was allowing her to make her point. He was underestimating her. Marie believed in her heart that she could get through to him, so she would no matter what. She stood from the desk and went to be beside him, she wasn't deterred by the fact that he still wouldn't look at her. "Do you think that you'll just hurt me if you allow yourself to get close to me? Do you think that you're incapable of love?" She took his stony silence as a 'yes' and proceeded, "You think I'm weak because I'm emotional, don't you? _Don't you_?"

He hesitated, before answering insensitively, "Yes."

"Well, you're wrong." Accusing him of being incorrect seemed to grab his attention, as his gaze shifted down to peer at her—though his body made no move to face her. She knew she was slowly chipping away at this wall he had constructed to keep her and everyone else out. She would smash the wall into fine dust, and then reconstruct it after he included her within it—that's what hammers were for, after all. The thought made her smile and press forward, "It makes me brave, because I'm not afraid to get hurt. It makes me strong, because I can express myself openly. Franken, you asked me earlier why I don't fear you. Well, here's my answer: I'm not afraid of you because I know deep down, in my heart, that you would never intentionally hurt me." She stared into the depths of his calculative gaze, and she could feel his indecision, his confusion. She briefly shut her eye and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, before whispering very gently, "_I know you_…and you know me, don't you?"

He didn't breathe or move, until something within the recesses of his mind compelled him to respond to her, "_Yes._" Reluctantly, he turned to face her and she could clearly see that he was still plagued with doubt. She could see that he was sitting on the other side of that wall, curious about what would happen if he knocked it down, but also frightened of what he might do. He opened his mouth to speak, although the words did not immediately form, and she waited for him to work out what it was he needed to say. Eventually, after much consideration, he whispered numbly, "You can't fix me, Marie."

"Silly man…I never wanted to." Marie murmured tenderly and slowly raised her left hand to cup his cheek now—afraid that if she made any sudden movements it would startle him. But he did not stop her. In fact, he tilted his head into her touch ever so slightly and her heart soared. Her voice was slightly strangled by overwhelming emotion when she spoke next, "I have loved you, Franken Stein, at your worst and at your best. I know you may not understand it yet, but that's what love is." They stayed like that for a few moments, as Marie tried to collect herself. Once she had, Marie added with a more humorous note in her voice, "Did it ever occur to you that I might not accept your rejection?"

"No." He admitted bluntly.

"You should know by now that I will always fight for you." She smiled at him, even though he did not smile back.

"But what if…" He started again, but she shushed him.

"Why don't we test my theory this time? We'll see where it takes us. You look so awfully tired, Franken. Let's take a break." She gently urged him onto the bed, laying him out flat on his back so that he could rest. He sighed heavily, as though a great weight had been lifted from his body. She curled up beside him and kept an elbow propped up to support her head, as she watched him consider the information. She was surprised she had gotten him to accept this personal and familiar of a position, but he seemed naturally soothed by her nearness.

"I need a cigarette." He said suddenly, and his hands began searching through his coat pockets. After he had one lit, he remained quiet for what seemed like an hour, hardly blinking as he stared at the ceiling.

When the silence became unbearable, she finally asked him, "Are you thinking about my proposition?" She winced and remembered that one must take baby-steps when dealing with Stein and emotions. Slightly flustered, she quickly added, "We can just stay like this, for a bit, if you'd like." He said nothing for a moment, paying her awkwardness no mind.

"Yeah...just let me rest my eyes for a minute." He muttered suddenly, without looking at her. His eyelids descended, and it wasn't long before he drifted into a light, dreamless sleep.

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**A/N: Okay! Now we're getting somewhere! Sorry if you feel like this is dragging on! But hopefully you don't and you're liking it if you're still reading it at this point! Thanks again for everyone who keeps following, favoriting and reviewing and such. I appreciate the support. :)**


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